When he stands up, his eyes meet mine, and he offers me the same forced smile he gave Tucker a minute ago. My hands itch to touch him, and the urge to lean in and kiss him is overwhelming, but I can’t. At least not yet.
“Let me know if you need anythin’ from the store,” I murmur.
“I’m good, but thanks.” Holding up the water bottle in his hand, he adds, “Gonna fill this up and hit the trail.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds before nodding. In the truck, Tucker requests “Ash’s music,” and I must admit, it’s growing on me. And not even just because it reminds me of Ash and the passion he has when he talks about them, but because it’s…really quite good. Sure, it’s different than what I normally listen to, butdifferentisn’t synonymous withbad—a fact that I’m slowly starting to realize Ash has showed me, in more ways than one. Since moving in, he’s opened my eyes and shown me new ways of seeing and feeling things.
Change has always been a bit challenging for me, more than I’d ever care to admit. Repetition, routine, and structure allow me to know what to expect, what’s coming next, and help me plan for mine and my son’s future, and until Ash, I didn’t realize how stuck in my ways I was.
It’s been a week since the party. A week since his sister found out about us. A week since my dad, my brother, and a handful of members of the community all found out about my relationship with Ash. An entire week, and with the way gossip spreads like wildfire in the summer heat around this town, I’m willing tobet there isn’t a single soul who doesn’t know now. I’ll admit, having everybody find out I’m bisexual in such a loud, aggressive manner is a lot. In a perfect world, I would’ve preferred to tell my family myself—and privately—before we went public with it, but that’s not how it worked out. After sitting with it for a week, I’ve come to realize I’m okay with it. I’m okay with everyone knowing, okay with it being out in the open now.
My dad, my brother, and August have been surprisingly great about giving me space this week. They all three, separately, made sure I knew they were there for me and supported me whenever I felt comfortable talking about it, but I haven’t wanted to. Not yet. Not until I know Ash is okay.
And he’s not right now. Okay, that is. He’s tried reaching out to Violet a couple of times, but I know for the most part, he’s trying to respect her space. Her silence is slicing him open, though. I can see it, even if he tries to hide it. This boiling hot, fierce protectiveness I feel over Ash has nearly knocked me off my feet more times than I can count this week. He’s hurt, and I know he feels guilty, and he’s down on himself. I fucking hate it. I would give anything to be able to take that pain from him.
Finding a healthy balance of giving him space to feel how he feels, and work through everything, while also letting him know I’m there for him has been a challenge. I don’t want to smother him, but I also don’t want him to think he can’t lean on me. Iwanthim to lean on me. Iwanthim to pass the hurt off to me.
He and Tucker have had a busy week, which seems to be helping, even if only a little bit. They went to some kids’ musical a few towns over on Tuesday, which Tucker hasn’t stopped gushing about since. They went to the lake with Tripp a few days ago, where they built a sandcastle nearly as tall as Tuck. Ash sent me a picture of him standing beside it, and the smile on my son’s face was so genuine and bright. Then yesterday morning, Ashtook Tucker to town, where there was apparently a kids’ yoga class being offered.
As we laid in bed last night, he told me all about it, even though Tucker already did during bathtime. The pride and love in his tone whenever he talks about Tuck never fails to steal my breath away. Purposely never letting women I’ve dated around my son, I never knew how meaningful and rewarding it is to watch somebody you care deeply about love your child like their own. I doubt it’ll ever stop making my heart skip a beat.
I’ve been toying with the idea of adding on to the small barn in my backyard for a while. Maybe installing some air conditioning and proper walls, adding a movie theater or something out there. So, that’s what Tuck and I are doing today. Well, what we’re starting on, I should say. I’ve got to clear out a patch of the yard, big enough for the space I’m looking to add to the already established barn. Luckily, I know what I’m doing because I hand built the barn originally, so it’s just a matter of getting all the supplies I need.
Once we leave the hardware store, we zip over to the store across the street, picking up enough groceries to get us through the week. Ash typically does the grocery shopping for the house, something he started doing without being asked, but he has enough on his mind, so I’m doing it so he doesn’t have to worry about it.
“Daddy, we should get some of these for Ash.” Glancing down, Tucker’s holding up a box of Ash’s favorite tea.
I smile down at my son, my chest swelling at how thoughtful he is. “Yeah?”
He nods, face serious as he suggests, “With the cookies he likes. It’ll cheer him up.”
Squeezing his shoulder, I say, “Think you’re right, bug. I think it would absolutely cheer him up.”
“So, can we?”
“Yeah, of course.”
With the tea in the cart, we continue down the other aisles, getting everything we need before strolling toward the bakery. Tucker runs over to the table that houses the peanut butter blossom cookies Ash can’t get enough of. They always have them here, and he can never make a trip without securing a pack or two. It’s become almost a nightly tradition with him and Tucker. After dinner, they’ll sit on the porch, a chocolate milk for Tucker and a hot tea for Ash, and each eat a cookie while they watch Bubba run around with the chickens.
And like the lovesick man I am, I’ll watch them from the kitchen window as I do the dishes. Ash has so effortlessly woven his way into our lives, it’s like he was always meant to be here. The relationship he has with Tucker, their bond, and how naturally it has felt opening myself up to him. It truly feels like Ash was our missing piece.
Tossing the cookies into the cart, Tucker stops and clasps his hands together in front of himself before looking up at me with another serious expression on his face. “Daddy, I have a question.”
“Okay. Let’s hear it, bug.”
“Is Ash going to be my mommy?”
Air getting lodged in my throat, I cough, pounding a fist to my chest. “What do you mean by that?” I ask, curiosity welling up inside me.
“Well, you know how in movies, some families have a mommy and a daddy?”
“Yeah…”
“Our house only has a daddy,” he explains, and an ache forms in my chest. I always knew the day would come when he’d realize our home looks a little different than others. He’s asked about his mom before, but not much. I’m very open with him—or asmuch as I can be for his age—but he’s never seemed bothered by it. “And, well, maybe Ash can be the mommy.”
My heart thunders as my son asks me this loaded question in the middle of the bakery at the grocery store. “Did you think Cassie could be the mommy in our house too?” I ask, trying to gauge where the question is coming from.
His face scrunches up. “No, that’s different.”
